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Coincidences
Sunday, October 30, 2005 11:17 PM It I ran into an acquaintance while having dinner at Pasir Panjang Road on a lazy Saturday evening. She is someone I used to be hopelessly infatuated with in my teens. I'd rack my brains dry to think of how to make romantic gifts to give her, only to look back these days to see how cringe-worthily cheapskate and uninspiring they are. Oh I still keep in contact with her, on MSN that is (and I still have her phone number I think, for decorative purposes). However, most of our conversations online usually end up with monosyllabic replies after a grand total of about 4-5 phrases (including the 'Hi's and 'Hey's). All of which culminated into a single wordless mutual wave of acknowledement when we met across the dinner table that evening. Eventually, not a single word was exchanged, and I did not even have the courtesy to say goodbye to her (I shy marh). I just left unobtrusively. I don't believe in coincidences; all things (ok, stuff like the above at least) happen for a reason, it's just that sometimes you see it, sometimes you don't, and sometimes you only understand many years down the road. Yet, very often, we take 'coincidences' too seriously. Run into each other in the most unexpected places, or have siblings with same name, or have the same exact birthday, etc. And then we think that we are fated to be with that person. I think this 'coincidence' is a sign and a message for me. For all the effort I've put in to maintain our 'acquaintanceship', the result was not even a word of 'Hi' or 'Hey' when we finally met 'coincidentally' in real life. For all the 'coincidences' I had with her, they were merely empty gimmicks to distract me from the fact that I barely knew her much more than what everyone else knew about her, and that the crucial 'layers of a sandwich' that made a relationship whole was all missing; a chicken toast without the cheese and the chicken. I still believe that He's already planned for me the special girl of my life (and vice versa for her). And perhaps she will be the most unexpected and dissimilar girl I'll ever meet. Perhaps not, but regardless, all the requirements that matter will be present. And then there's this chance that He means for me to be a bachelor all my life. I'm desperately praying. ( 2 comment) Till We Have Faces Wednesday, October 19, 2005 9:50 PM How do I even begin to describe this utter, divine joy that I derived from (just) a hurried reading of C.S Lewis' Till We Have Faces? It is so romantic, so enlightening, and so rich. So much effort and time has been tenderly invested into the careful refining of the narrative so as continually surprise us with its subtle twists and turns, and yet come full circle to a complete (yet very much open-ended) close at the end. The novel is primarily a retelling of the story of Cupid and Psyche, but added with a 5-tonne truck full of Lewis' ideas on love, suffering, and the divine. It was written as a narration from an extremely ugly woman (a hobgoblin, as called by her very own father), the sister of Psyche, Orual. Lewis' sensitivity to the female psyche would've made Arthur Golden and his Geisha look like some hermaphroditic abomination. Orual finds out one fine day that Psyche, whom she so loved, had married a god, when all along it was believed that she had been 'devoured' by the said god on the holy mountain. So Orual tries to save her from the mountain. What gradually unfolds is "an instance, a 'case' of human affection in its natural condition, true, tender, suffering, but in the long run tyrannically possessive and ready to turn to hatred when the beloved ceases to be its possession." (http://www.montreat.edu/dking/lewis/TILWEHAV.htm) All of us has, or has been loved, loves, or is loved, and will or will be loved. All the angsty stuff about love that we've written, said or thought in our lives is testament to how ambivalent love can sometimes be; a selfless gift, a selfish possession; a boundless field of freedom, a horrible prison of envy; a sublime joy, a pitiful sorrow. The line between love and hatred is often so thin. What is love that we should torment ourselves and suffer injustices for its sake and why? Not some big philosophical explanation or a callous theoretical calculation. But to experience, to feel, (and some say to know Him, who claims to be Love itself) is the answer by itself. ( 6 comment) For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God Monday, October 17, 2005 7:48 PM I was having dinner with an acquaintance who happened to be a smoker. After finishing the last morsel of food, he promptly reached into his pocket for his packet of cigarettes. Then, he tapped one end of his cigarette packet against his palm a few times to allow one stick to portrude out of the packet and flicked it deftly onto his lips. Next, he bowed his head slightly, covered his cigarette with one hand, and lit it. "I hate those kind of smokers" the words came out of his mouth following the first puff of smoke, "they smoking like anything like that in front of children." Only about five full seconds later did I notice this middle-aged man and his balding father who were happily puffing away beside a young child (who must've been the man's son) at a table across. Then began the soliloquy. "I remembered ah, there was once i kan'ed (scolded) a mother in Orchard Road. I was smoking, and there was this mother and child who were walking close beside me. I kept trying to change hand to keep the cigarette away from the child, but the mother keep pushing the child towards my cigarette. So I scolded her 'Eh you don't care about the health of your daughter one ah? Don't push your child to my cigarette lah'. Actually I really don't like smokers who smoke inconsiderately around children. I mean, smoking is my own freedom what, but at least don't smoke in front of children mah." In two short minutes, he has justified his habit of smoking, as well as morally elevated himself above other 'inconsiderate smokers', emotively referring children. Well, I'm very disturbed by how easily he condemned other fellow smokers without realising that he was under his own condemnation as well. Smokers are generally unpopular among non-smokers because they infringe on their freedom to chose to breathe fresh air. It is the smoker's freedom to smoke anywhere they want, but when they chose to smoke near me, there goes my freedom to not breathe in the second hand smoke without having to hold my breathe (and in the process, look like a real cockster). According to my acquaintance, smoking near children would be inconsiderate. However, if you think about it, how does the fact that I'm not a child make him less inconsiderate when he smokes beside me? By making a distinction between children and adults, he has shifted the goal post; he has lowered the moral standard so that he can be justified and even righteous according to his new standard (which really becomes not much of a standard anymore really). 'Sure, I may be an inconsiderate smoker, but AT LEAST I don't smoke inconsiderately around children. So COMPARED to those inconsiderate smokers, I'm much better than them. Well, balls to them!' ... Actually, I don't have a grudge against the abovementioned smoker, nor smokers in general. In fact, I find him to be generally quite an easy-going and likeable guy, And personally, I'd rather have smokers like him who are considerate to children than smokers who are not considerate at all. "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God". In other words, no one is perfect. Let us not forget that, and 'fail to see the plank in (our) own eye' as we try to 'remove the speck from (our) brother's eye'. Besides, I'm seriously considering taking my first puff sometime soon. Whoops, did I just say that out aloud? ( 4 comment) A Really Bad Week Sunday, October 09, 2005 7:29 PM I was taking a bus home on Friday, miserably enduring the loud and annoying banter of a few sickening fatsos without the protection of my mp3 player. I almost let fly my fists onto the fattest flab's face. And for the rest of the journey, I could not help visualizing myself pounding his oily guts into a bloody mess. I really wished I had a huge ice pick and chopper for me to decapitate him there and then. However, as I calmed down from my rage, I realised that it would not be right for me to just hit him without a reason. I would get into big trouble with the law in the 'fine' city that is Singapore. I spent the rest of the night thinking of ways in which I could beat up someone, and yet not get into any trouble (or almost no trouble). Here are three ways I've come up with: 1 Put your bag in the middle of a pavement, and then go hide somewhere unobtrusive but where you can see the bag clearly. Wait for one sucker to pick it up, and immediately dash in yelling "THIEF! THIEF! DON'T RUN!" If he starts to run, then he's all yours. Unless he's got very quick reflexes, usually the shock and awe would cause him to stumble as he tries to run away, giving you a distinct advantage as you take him down, and beat him to pulp. At the end of it all, the word 'misunderstanding' would clear you of most of the more serious consequences of starting the brawl, very worth it in my opinion if you do manage to let loose several powerful pent-up punches. If he does not run, or he happens to be a security guard checking for bomb threats, you will have to flash out your 'misunderstanding' wild card right away, and try again another place, another time. 2 Go to a pub or a coffee shop and keep a lookout for a solitary drinker who is getting drunk. Share a drink or two with him to get him even more drunk. Then forcibly try to 'take him home', loudly reminding him that he is drunk, and should go home to sleep already. As you drag him away from the pub or coffee shop, take a deteour into a dark and secluded corner and start beating him up to your heart's content. As he is drunk silly, he most probably would not be able to put up much of a fight, guaranteeing a cathartic release of fury from you. Alcohol often has the effect of causing people to forget what happened the night before. Pray hard that he can't remember what your face looks like the next day. In fact, pray hard that he doesn't even remember being pummeled last night.. 3 Get into a fight with any stupid beng in the streets. Simultaneously, your friend will call the New Paper, and give them YOUR side of the story. .... It's been a really horribly bad week. ( 6 comment) |
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